


we made it out to the other side

by redlight



Category: SOMA (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Canon, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, simon subscribes to a lifetime's worth of issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/pseuds/redlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misery comes in threes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we made it out to the other side

He thinks he'd be cold, if he could feel temperature anymore.

 _Cold_ ,  _dark_ , and  _lonely_  go hand in hand in hand, a trio of sorrows held together by gravity, or structure gel, or something along those fucked-up lines. Misery comes in threes, in  _WAU_ s, in  _ARK_ s, in _Catherine_ s.

If  _one_  is missing, then it's uncomfortable, itches at his senses because something's off. If  _two_  are missing, then he's reaching out for them, fingers stretched and clutching, for some sort of familiarity, salvation. If all  _three_  are gone, then.

If all three are gone.

Then what does he even  _have_?

He's Simon, Simon Jarrett, isn't he. He liked books and his friend Ashley and coffee too sweet. But he's also  _dead_ , that Simon.

It's dark. It's lonely. It's not cold. It should be cold.

He has nothing to do anymore. He killed the WAU. He got the ARK into space. Catherine's gone, but.

But.  _But_.

Simon Jarrett is a dead man from a century ago, in a city that doesn't exist anymore. Simon Jarrett is a corpse in a power suit stuck together with a whole hell-load of structure gel and powered by a battery pack.

He wrenches himself out of the pilot seat, at some point. He doesn't know how long it's been, but he does it eventually. The monstrous creatures are dying out, weak, easy to avoid and to kill if he needs to. It's still dark, and it's still lonely.

He wonders about the Simon in Omicron, the Simon who must be awake now, the Simon who's locked in a facility with a proxy growling and knocking against his door, out for his blood. Not that he really has blood. Whatever.

Whatever.

Sometimes he talks to himself, out loud. Just to hear something other than turbulence and memories.

It seemed merciful to leave that Simon, that other Simon, alive. Fucking  _merciful_.

And everything is dark, and everything is lonely, and nothing is cold.

He wonders how long it'd take for his battery pack to run out.

He wonders if he's strong enough to smash a rock into his cortex chip.

He wonders if he can make it back to Tau, to Omicron. End up all the way back to Upsilon, close his eyes-- or, shut off his visuals for a bit, whatever-- and wake up back in Toronto 2015. Go backwards. Maybe dying in June would be better.

He doesn't bother to pick up Catherine. Doesn't want to give himself hope. Doesn't know how to feel about her.

(He shouldn't feel guilty, because he didn't kill her. He  _didn't_. Her circuits overloaded on their own.)

He talks to himself a lot.  _Hi, my name's Simon, nice to meet you, wonder how many of you there are_.

Number One that's dead.

Number Two that's abandoned.

Number Three that's all alone on an ocean floor.

And Number Four. Fucking  _Four_. All up above, made a home in the cosmos, journeying through the stars, in the  _fucking_ ARK.

There doesn't need to be more than one Simon. There  _doesn't_. Misery comes in threes, except he's managed to break that rule.

It's dark. It's so, so lonely. Nothing is cold.


End file.
